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Michael F. Gill and Chad Parenteau

Illustration by James Conant

Thrust

Approaching us25 minutes aftershock value,he's walking tabloid.No, he's not after money,his softer sell,he wants respectin an aghast mouth.We hear of his apartmentwith wall to wall weed,street-crossing distancefrom the T, women knockingin lockstep booty call,his uninterrupted flowof gamer-style cheatswhile wagging his dog.Our ostrich eyebrowsshoot up from the ground.Good humors not enough,he unveils as aspiringneocon, waiting for anotherlotto-spiked tax bracketfor full membership,wartime glory during wartime,cocktails with Ted Nugent.He asks us to join him,says we are mere bricks in hisvaguely pyrametrical scheme,and we can help himfar more than him us.It’s not misspeak,but the first honest dialoguewe’ve heard from anywould-be leader. Then weremember that Hope and Dopeare similar, with the contrastthat if one is in the airyou can actually tell.We ask him for money,as any army needs funding.He laughs and leavesto renegotiate.